There’s something about our cots that make them creak and moan like a haunted pirate ship all night.  During the day, perfectly normal, functional cots.  But as soon as the sun dips below the horizon, the cots begin their late night chanting: “Wreeeeeeeeeeek.”  “Waaaaaaaaaaagh.”  “Wrrrrrreeeeeeek.”   My head resting on a desert camouflage travel pillow, propped up against my duffel bag for support, I drift off to sleep to the sounds of a 12th century sailing vessel…which is oddly comforting.

It’s amazing where you find comfort in the Army.

Preparing to ship off to war, I felt that looming sense that everything we knew was about to change.  Yet, as we loaded onto the 767 carrying rucks on our backs, M-9s strapped to our legs and M-4s slung over our shoulders, I found comfort in the strict adherence to FAA regulations:  we’re sitting on the plane cradling all our weapons, but we still have to turn over our blades, scissors, and nail clippers.  God Bless the USA and the FAA!  And thank you for providing the cool comfort of irony that only the US Army can provide!

When we hit the foreign, frosty desert air of Kuwait in the middle of the night, I took comfort in the familiarity of soldiers gathered around a weapons clearing barrel  - locking our bolts to the rear, checking the chamber, sliding the bolt forward, pulling the trigger, charging the handle, placing the weapon on safe…the comfortable routine monotony of soldiering.

As our ramshackle bus hurtled toward Camp Buehring, bumping and grinding along the way, my senses sharpened and my muscles tensed as I looked for IEDS (improvised explosive devices) in every abandoned car we passed.  Our driver didn’t believe in smooth braking as he slammed the bus to halt and then jerked it forward again every 10th of a mile.  He didn’t believe in headlights, either, which made the fact that he didn’t hit one passing camel or one oncoming car all the more impressive.  I chalk that up to either the driver having keen bat-like nighttime vision or some divine influence looking out for us.  Either way, there’s comfort there.

And here, in the dusty confines of Camp Buehring, I’ve found plenty of comfort.  Sure, we’re sleeping 15 men in a cramped GP Medium tent.  Sure, we’re covered in sand from the tops of our patrol caps to the soles of our boots.  Sure, we’re thousands of miles away from our homes, our families, loved ones.

But we’ve found comfort in each other.  We’ve found comfort in the love and support from back home.  We’ve found comfort in the MWR-provided amenities such as DSN phone calls home, the volunteer-run USO, internet access, video games, movies, pool, ping pong, card games, aerobics, the gym facilities, the BX shopping center, the multiple dining facilities (DFACs)…they even have KFC, Burger King, and other food court trailers.

Yes.  Burger King.  Chinese Food.  Pizza.  Steak.  Here.  In the desert.  The taste of democracy.

Most importantly to me, they have coffee readily available.  There are several Green Beans trailers set up around the camp for our convenience, but there rests a jewel in this desert crown.  Like a diamond in the rough…gleaming amongst the sand-covered tents and trailers… sits Starbucks.  An actual Starbucks.  Neon signs and all.  With wood-paneled insides, gourmet coffee posters, and genuine barristas working the iconic counter.  They even have the little shaker of cinnamon I like to sprinkle on my morning cup of joe.  The only thing missing are NYC hipsters huddled over Iphones and grad students furtively tapping away on a laptop at the corner tables, which kind of makes the Starbucks experience all the more comforting.

So, as we prepare to jet off to Baghdad in the coming days, I take comfort in knowing that someone’s looking out for our comfort.  That we can always make the most uncomfortable of experiences comfortable.  And that, Yes.  Even here.  In the middle of Camp Buehring.  In the middle of the desert.  In the middle of the Middle East.   There’s a Starbucks.

I love the smell of freedom in the morning!